Monday, April 30, 2012

With a picture with pieces to start to continue lips on knuckles elbows trembling with sighs from next door's arrivals and departures adjacent to the opposite catching of the next drift. Nightmares alternate with work's presumptuous lot clicked on that accidentally there are no accidents with them with a picture with pieces to start to continue lips on knuckles elbows trembling with sighs from next door's arrivals and departures adjacent to the opposite catching of the next drift. Clicked slid tripped stumbled and staying still until the falling over under the weight of lids screwed down and screwed is what it is screwed is the is as the here and now is held by the ears shaken until the mind caves in with forced attention to details what's in there is hair that has been twisted and wrapped around the holes in the floors pieces of pictures of pieces of heads plucked like unsustainable notes from unfinished pieces of music.

Frogs had a part in it or perhaps rips in shirt sleeves catching on another collapse another faltering no patience too much patience ignorance is on the way it's coming why bother the tubes to the bags bring more ignorance is on the way. Stuff and something else it was on the list somewhere or the list was somewhere went somewhere was supposed to be going somewhere getting some turned the page over for more and it was gone between turning it over between glimpses of pieces of words with pictures with pieces to start to continue lips on knuckles elbows trembling with sighs from next door's arrivals and departures adjacent to the opposite catching of the next drift. Why bother the tubes to the bags bring more they bring more ignorance ignorance is on the way.

“I guess I didn’t want any,” said Skids looking away from the clods of rice.

“You guess?” asked Rugklam with frustration and thoughts of gazebos toppled over on their sides in the desert.

“That’s the best I can do,” replied Skids turning back to the discolored rice with a glare.

“How long are you going to keep on passing up what we find?” asked Rugklam lifting and tilting his right foot to allow a rock to dislodge and slide off the back of his slipper.

“Do you remember the music store that closed a couple of years ago?” asked Skids suddenly with fascination.

“It was more than a couple,” answered Rugklam having to shake out a companion rock off his slipper as well.

“Whatever,” quipped Skids, “they had one of those displays that – what did they call them?”

“An endcap?”

“No, not an endcap. It was free-standing.”

“A free-standing endcap.”

“No! I’ll have your ear lobes. Even though I’ve no use for them, I’ll pull down on them both like dismantling a shower curtain,” growled Skids standing with his hands at his sides while his thumbs and index fingers practiced their pincer grip.

“You can have them since you’ve pissed on my offer of rice,” said Rugklam.

“You call that an offer? We haven’t had rice in so long long long a time and the only rice that can be discovered doesn’t have any precursors to any hints of any coming attractions of any molecules of rice fragments resembling anything the color of white,” Skids retorted.

“Just pretend it’s wild rice,” said Rugklam badly hopping on one leg to vainly remove a third rock (a pebble) this time.

“I should have said tearing off your lobes would be like dismantling a tremendous movie curtain,” Skids reconsidered.

“Or you could act as if it’s domesticated rice with yellow food coloring number 23 unless that evokes shades of urine, but that shouldn’t matter since you’ve already voided yourself on my idea. The chicken or the egg has been forever replaced by pseudo-friends or others taking the initiative to expedite the spoilage of one’s ideas. If that doesn’t suit your fancy try brown food coloring number 161 in spite of its suggesting some other modality of decorating that snakes its way from the depths of one’s gut,” stated Rugklam attempting to recall a poem that began with references to a lake fouled with ethylene glycol underneath a diborane gas cloud (sheep drifting past a billboard plastered with the latest algae product line).

“One of those towering big red movie theater curtains, you know what I mean?” said Skids enthusiastically gesturing with his outstretched arms.

“I thought you didn’t give a shit,” asked Rugklam reminiscing of days of old before nothing but desert to the horizon when weeks were filled with bland days of rain (filed between sloppy penmanship and deformities) and a sharp corner of a heavy wooden desk to impale one’s forehead.

“Oh, that’s right. What would I do without you to help keep me focused on my indifference,” said Skids thankfully.

“Haven’t I always told you to get out more and form at least one other relationship, one other relationship besides me, one other relationship per decade,” reminded Rugklam.

“You do nag,” commented Skids swatting at a cloud of gnats.

“Then think about it on those nights when you can’t sleep and your nose doesn’t bleed so much so I don’t have to go through my lecture once again,” implored Rugklam.

“You know I can’t curl up into my corner without my carbon steel ice pick to clear my nasal allergies and lull me to sleep and forego the need to keep a calendar or a bowel movement log,” said Skids plagued with the inescapable image of the TV tumbling down the flight of stairs (a slice of mildew is too much to ask).

“I thought you promised to stop that whittling through the blasted face mask to get at the carotid. Sounds like you want the lecture after all,” declared Rugklam.

“The one about the psychological benefits to be reaped from investing in the speculations of relationship and its derivatives?” inquired Skids.

“That’s the lecture,” confirmed Rugklam eying a rather large roach.

“The one that opens with the joke about the prostitute and coffeemaker?” Skids checked to make sure.

“A poem. It opens with a poem about about the one that makes reference to a lake,” corrected Rugklam continuing to follow the rather large roach that seemed to have expanded in size.

“Yes, that the lecture,” bragged Rugklam, "can't say I'm familiar with the one about the prostitute and the coffeemaker" (impale forehead here).

“Well, there’s your problem. It’s your ingredients for oratory for hanging over an audience of one. I’ll not have it. The carbon steel ice pick comes to join me this very evening,” insisted Skids.

“You will have it. That’s all you and I do is have it. You’ll put it off, but just for a short while until you listen to it again, all of it again. You’re trying not to think right now of the parts the ones where I’ll lay it on extra thick in the absence of crisp toast and you’ll play right along again. You’ll be my crisp toast. You’ll be it right out as far as the crust. That’s as far as you can extend yourself,” wheezed Rugklam.

“Are you trying to scurry uselessly around inside that festering head of yours?” muttered Rugklam.

“Bringing down a movie theater curtain works much better than a shower curtain,” insisted Skids.

“You’ve let your priorities sink into the tainted lake and thereby have missed out on the opportunity all the opportunities for relationship like the restorative sinking of one's teeth into a thick tall sandwich and all its layers."

“Relationship has done it's job of reciprocating with it's own bite. Clamped with all of its influence down on these lips. When will I no longer be able to utter another word? Don't know if I can get my poisoned tongue out from between the ricin and mercury.”

“Mercury. You think yourself some messenger spluttering forth words to peel away appearances. You’re nothing but a thief and after all I’ve done for you. This skin won’t shed any faster than you’d like it to. You and I will just have to content ourselves with a fermenting body that won’t empty fast enough.”

From "The Prostitute and the Coffeemaker"

Testy she's testyHe's testy as well His testes making another potShe's making another potA pot shot at the designor lack thereofwretched black and blueprintsFilling in the things tough all overSwinging lower than usualMight hit the greasy tileWhyCongested dishwasherNobody has any reason to ignore what's beenwhat's been underunderWhyof all the miles of dirtmiles of deaththeir deathscan't get the goathis tired sick headin this dirty lapout in the milesof dirtdust storm obscuresthe setting sunwhyanother day ofhis tired sick headin this dirty lapout in the milesof dirtdust storm obscuresthe setting sunwhyanother day ofhis tired sick headthese handsdrop things todayand tomorrowtwitching with the ebbingand the ebbingcan't get the goathis tired sick headin this dirty lapout in the milesof dirtdust storm obscuresthe setting sun

“Dismantling a shower curtain is so intrusive like invading someone’s privacy.”

“Invading someone’s privacy, where are we going to find some food? There was nothing else in the dumpster. We’ll have to go farther, and you’ve never liked that.”

“They used to have these displays that had music on them that you could rotate around and around. And I would go in there and turn that display around and around and find the same stuff. I’d come back and spin that thing and come across the same pieces. Then I’d have to talk myself into waiting longer giving them more time and then come back after weeks after months turning that display around and around and still find the same stuff. Curled up with my carbon steel ice pick and my bleeding nostrils carotid nearby or trying not to tip this shanty over or walking on and on between places on and on between turning that display around and around and having another rotation of this thing this Earth to talk myself into.”

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Sharp once in a moon that has been lost haven't kept track of the what was it once in a moon that has been lost and drifted away lost in thought is that what it is was once in a moon inside the moon drifting away haven't kept track of the streets the names the street names behind the building behind the clouds fogging up the mirror tapping pruney fingers that once twice or once held a pen clicking still in the inner part of the ears between half a mind to think it through out the other side of the moon in a moon once in a moon that has been lost and drifted away lost in thought is that what it is once in a moon inside the moon drifting away haven't kept track of the streets the names the street names behind the building behind the clouds fogging up the mirror tapping pruney fingers that once twice or once held a pen clicking still in the inner part of the ears between half a mind to think it through out the other side of the moon falling into blackness the only thing that still holds like the black ink on finger tips pruney fingertips tipping over back into the darkness falling into shells for filling them in with paper and desks and machines loaded with darkness falling into shells for filling them in with paper and desks and machines loaded and unloaded shells filled and emptied dumping out paper and desks and machines crashing out crashing down onto floors of shells filling them in with paper and desks and machines loaded with darkness falling into shells for filling them in with paper and desks and machines exchanging plus one other opinion exchanging machines and desks and paper within them filling in emptying out shells into falling darkness.

"Put it away.""But I.""Turning off the light.""One more page.""Tomorrow.""You'll turn the light off again tomorrow."

Shells into falling darkness. It gets dark. Stuffed shells emptied shells. It gets dark. Falling crashing crunching crunching numbers. It gets dark. Paper and desks and machines and labels and lines and numbers and letters and numbers mostly. Hurts sitting on this hard chair after removing the dirty ripped and uneven cushion from the hard chair after after and now there's not much else to say but but what? oh there's the hard chair after never mind the after there is no after no more after so let's have an end until something else inside the moon shaken about between these sweating ears dripping the perspiration of jokes coming back right back at the chin lost the wood the brick and all the adhesives of identity now there's an explosion to take a load off a load out of the spinning rotating metal can coughing up all the dirty crummy laundry leave it there for them to walk on trip over perhaps stomp and stamp to mix in their swollen footprints their advances impressed into the dirty crummy laundry paving over the pores of the globe occluding them into another blemish on the rough surface of their order. It gets dark.

"Hurts.""Did you say something?""Hurts.""What hurts?""Inside before the top of the chest under the bottom of the neck.""Where's your water?""I think it spilled into the bed.""I've told you to make sure to seal it good and tight when you're done with it.""I guess I wasn't done with it."

Dirty crummy laundry paving over the pores of the globe occluding them into another blemish on the rough surface of their order.

"I said it feels different.""Different than dry?""Different than wet. Like the inside of a body."

Hurts sitting on this hard chair after removing the dirty ripped and uneven cushion from the hard chair after after and now there's not much else to say but but what? oh there's the hard chair after never mind the after there is no after no more after so let's have an end until something else inside the moon shaken about between these sweating ears dripping the perspiration of jokes coming back right back at the chin lost the wood the brick and all the adhesives of identity now there's an explosion to take a load off a load out of the spinning rotating metal can coughing up all the dirty crummy laundry leave it there for them to walk on trip over perhaps stomp and stamp to mix in their swollen footprints their advances impressed into the dirty crummy laundry paving over the pores of the globe occluding them into another blemish on the rough surface of their order. It gets dark.

It gets dark. Inside a shell emptied and stuffed with paper and desks and machines falling and crashing and crunching crunching numbers. Numbers can run paper and desks and machines into the ground or a star into a planet.

"Did you say something?"

Sharp once when it came to directions when it came to rules when it came to this. When it came to the anecdote regarding the young lady wrinkling at the computer as her stale toast as her life and its crumbs made their way down her legs as she sat on the hard chair wobbling on loose screws that hold her legs under her sagging nods into brief sleep interrupted by unsteadiness trying again to hum when lips before they had been re-absorbed into her brittle head buzzed wax paper on father's comb against the window as a fat bee hovered and suddenly collided into the glass sending her back go back back to the silence the silence of scribbling scribbling outlines of spiders gawking through furry legs at the bloated less than half full glass elephant in the middle of the room slightly to quite off center. Sharp once when it came to directions when it came to rules when it came to this.

Sharp once in a moon that has been lost haven't kept track of the what was it once in a moon that has been lost and drifted away lost in thought is that what it is was once in a moon inside the moon drifting away haven't kept track of the streets the names the street names behind the building behind the clouds fogging up the mirror tapping pruney fingers that once twice or once held a pen clicking still in the inner part of the ears between half a mind to think it through out the other side of the moon. Hurts sitting on this hard chair after removing the dirty ripped and uneven cushion from the hard chair after after and now there's not much else to say but but what? oh there's the hard chair after never mind the after there is no after no more after.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Calls cut short by long fuses that go out along the way the wayward meandering buttoned up in a repellent breeze locking the door noisily as the next step is taken taken away. Eyes move back and forth with the reflection of the clock pendulum swinging back and forth swinging back and forth in its glass compartment glass box swinging back and forth can see it in one's reflection about all the reflecting done in the past back and forth back and forth the next step back and forth taken away something is burning has been burning back and forth smoke pulsing back and forth in its glass compartment glass box pulsing the sidewalk pulsing maybe bending the knees soreness plain as plainness pulsing through the veins a vein pulsing in the wrist one of the two back and forth from a something around the neck pulsing smoke blurry not quite in focus like the old sidewalk putting the side of the head an ear to the sidewalk for a pulse a side of the head an ear back and forth decisions decisions adding subtracting arrows cracked and some other thing wrong with them adding subtracting decisions decisions back and forth to this to that to it step to it next step is taken taken away hair threading into the cracks of the concrete side of the jaw stubble skin scraping against the cheek cold cheek of the world can't go our separate ways not with the reflection and the pulsing of the smoke out of focus pendulum back and forth in its glass compartment glass box.

Shoes stopped a couple heels away. Worn laces dribbled down the mouths of footwear held half open as if pathetically squeezed and divided to be silenced and made to utter confirmation of embarrassment. Hands dug into coat pockets and pants pockets and emerged and re-emerged back and forth back and forth and forth and back. Fingers were snapped to summon thoughts that would not come out of their dark corners.

Hal: Who's calling who?Smudge: Don't call us.Hal: Let me guess. You beg to differ.Smudge: I beg to dissolve right in.Hal: When you stretch your arm doesn't matter which or it might across the table while holding a glass doesn't matter if it has anything in it or it might where do you go?Smudge: This one again? Hal: This is a variation or do you want me to come back later?Smudge: I haven't for quite some time.Hal: You haven't what? Been at a table?Smudge: Well, that, too, now that you bring it over here, but what I mean is that I haven't stretched out my arm.Hal: Making a soggy paper plane out of yourself are you?Smudge: You know me too well and it doesn't matter or it might.Hal: Heard anything yet laying there?Smudge: Nothing but a lump in the surface that's slunk along right over here and started jabbering.Hal: Once there was a man and it wasn't me damn it so don't even think of it a worm might come from a nearby puddle and make its bed in your ear or under your cheek or make you blink incessantly as it pushes the envelope into the corner filling up with tears.Smudge: There hasn't been a puddle since before I had the misfortune of making your acquaintance whilst having you trip over me at the dump.Hal: That's not how it happened.Smudge: Aw, fuck, he's gonna go cosmogonical on me. Nearly deflated one of my lungs with those shoes. The very ones.Hal: Incessantly blinking. How does that sound? Let the words crawl about in your ear and settle in your cortex. I repeat, how does that sound?Smudge: I heard you the first time. That's the problem. Still too much matter left to hold to let it seep in. A crawling a digging could do some welcome damage. Hal: Back and forth back to it once there was a man not me a man once there was who before he jumped made sure to look.Smudge: Which way?Hal: It doesn't matter or it might. Now look what you've done. It wasn't a man it was someone who and it wasn't me so don't even go on about it. And it wasn't once there was a man who jumped. It was more than once. It was many times. It was many many times.Smudge: Grave mistake.Hal: All those repetitions?Smudge: Not likely. Don't call us. We'll call you. Which way? I'm asking which way is the grave underneath the surface just below the surface of all the insisting all the plans all the rubbing the ear the jaw the stubble against the world where the body goes the one trying to get back to breaking and entering puts up with the exhausted back and forth her putting up with it only so long after never seeing those green hills you talked about never got that far she putting up with it only so long after never seeing putting up with your not being able to rub two words together anymore. Don't call us. We'll call you. I'm only asking which way is the grave underneath the surface just below the surface?

Back and forth from a something around the neck pulsing smoke blurry not quite in focus like the old sidewalk putting the side of the head an ear to the sidewalk for a pulse a side of the head an ear back and forth decisions decisions adding subtracting arrows cracked and some other thing wrong with them adding subtracting decisions decisions back and forth to this to that to it step to it next step is taken taken away hair threading into the cracks of the concrete side of the jaw stubble skin scraping against the cheek cold cheek of the world can't go our separate ways not with the reflection and the pulsing of the smoke out of focus pendulum back and forth in its glass compartment glass box.

Shoes stopped a couple heels away. Worn laces dribbled down the mouths of footwear held half open as if pathetically squeezed and divided to be silenced and made to utter confirmation of embarrassment. Hands dug into coat pockets and pants pockets and emerged and re-emerged back and forth back and forth and forth and back. Fingers were snapped to summon thoughts that would not come out of their dark corners.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

On hold hold on a sunken relationship like socks and sandals that have parted too late too late too late napkin crumpled between her lips touching the clouds caught in her lashes making them making her making everything appear thinner everything appear as it is thinner and just won't go away hold on a sunken relationship like like like too late in a bed heads rolled up into the sheets from the guillotines of waking moments depends on off to the next appointment for mummifying her little body in the tilted chair of the next appointment clamping open shrieks that pierce into the subsequent go ahead take a sip too cold too late the too late of the clouds caught in her lashes making them making her making everything appear thinner everything appear as it is thinner and just won't go away hold on won't be but a moment on hold held shut.

On hold hold on to what holds it back back at the zoo for another viewing of what used to run around play having gotten the eyes over the shoulders out of sight out of mind out of their minds they go again there they go again out of sight out of mind out of their minds they go again there they go again and they're off coming in on the outside coming out on the inside alongside all the inside jobs outside of it all alongside the big hands try to squeeze their hands held holding on on hold under shrieks that pierce into the subsequent go ahead take a sip too cold too late the too late of the clouds caught in her lashes making them making her making everything appear thinner everything as it is thinner and just won't go away hold on won't be but a moment on hold held open for filling in forcing in the filling in of the holes around the time of having not cared or known about the holes being there including the ones by the water dragging it along into this gap where other feet can't be found to stand for toes to spread and fingers to squeeze into the pockets between little fingers that learned to snap the other day the day before the rest will snap snap into place.

"Can't read."

"We'll tell her in just a about how long a length of time would you say it should be?"

"Can't read. Maybe about as long as it takes to go down the hallway."

"It's not a very big hallway. Can't even put more than a picture or two a few pieces of tape."

"My throat is folding against reading. We could walk slower or even stop by the drawing of all the rectangles she made."

"Not so loud," was spoken through eyes that tried not to meet those other eyes holding out while holding on on hold hold on to what holds it back back at the zoo for another viewing of what used to run around play having gotten the eyes over the shoulders out of sight out of mind out of their minds adding stuffing filling in forcing in, "the old runaround," was dropped out through eyes that tried not to meet.

"You want me to do what? Run?"

"No. You were right slower is good. Something has to be another dead pet how many can she be told about and then her lips and her cheeks will move like when she has food in her mouth I told her to finish that she just can't bring herself except her eyes are doing that now they're slightly more open held open clamped open by what is filled with light forced open by light the air around us you can put your book back in your room."

"That will make it longer for me for us to get down the hallway to her her eyes you're talking about her eyes and I want to put the book away. I put it down so I can't see the cover only see nothing on the back so I don't have to think about it."

"We're face down."

"Like when we play cards and don't want to give it away. What we have in our hands. What do you think she'll want next? What can she have next? Can she have anything next? I hope it won't die so soon."

"I think she heard us. She's coming down the hallway."

"I want to distract her about the rectangles she drew, but she should know."

"We have something to tell you. Something sad."

"I don't know if I can go back to reading stories."

On hold hold on under the sand another one this time under the sand buried hiding from not to meet those other eyes holding out while holding on on hold hold on to what holds it back back at the zoo for another viewing of what used to run around play having gotten the eyes over the shoulders out of sight out of mind out of their minds adding stuffing filling in forcing in, "the old runaround," was dropped out through eyes that tried not to meet. Like when we play cards and don't want to give it away. What we have in our hands.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

He was testing himself no he was being tested no he was being tested by himself by somebody else other than himself tested by himself row row reach for another tissue is it the last one just a few more maybe one more could be the last one not another in the house could look around but then the hunt the search could come up empty empty blank thin metal cartridge no thick metal cartridge thin skulled or thin skinned and all that all that what? are you kidding for it now hence yes no but there was this gate come up to it and sneak looks into paths of leafless trees what things one large rock not too big on the ground by one of the trees had something on it thought there was and now it with a gesture of the fingers lifting both palms up a bit and then the fingers gesturing you know and maybe you don't like a transparent fish and its last pulsing life ebbing out of it as it were gesturing then the fingers palms up only slightly and these will be the only words stuck impressed into the base of the finger where a ring has been and some other things you know and maybe you don't for no more breakfasts together for no one else to overhear food being cooked or burned if you like that sort of thing of course not run its course has it as it were palms up only slightly testing the impenetrable or the not there at all not anymore. He was testing himself no he was being tested no he was being tested by himself by somebody else other than himself tested by himself no he was testing to see to hear go back a bit to the by himself no by somebody else well there is that somebody else well as a matter of course by somebody else there is the business of on somebody else's behalf the sitting at the table and looking out the window overlooking the fallen blinds rehung rather poorly hanging on hanging in there so to tug on another tissue this could be the last one or the next tissue that has fallen in brushing against the side of the inside of the box brushing against the walls of the box boxes of rooms another sheet another layer could be the last one or the next one that has fallen in brushing against the side against the walls of the inside of the box of the thoughts bent slats rehung rather poorly hanging on hanging in there so to tug on another tissue another layer this could be the last one or the next tissue next layer that has fallen in brushing against the sides walls of the box boxes of rooms fallen in.